


Jane: The Hydra-ning

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Sex Pollen, consent questionable due to sex pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane is consulting with SHIELD, borrowing some labspace. Except there's a strange canister in her lab, and then trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jane: The Hydra-ning

**Author's Note:**

> Sex pollen, consent issues relating to that. This is a work of fiction, consent is important for reals! Yes means yes!

Jane raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips as she looked around the lab. It was impossible to not be impressed by the _very_ state of the art facility they had here. It was even better than the underground base they'd had in Tromso- she even had windows at one of the lab where the bright sunlight was shining through.

“I trust this will be adequate.” the man hovering by her left elbow said, his tone nothing but accommodating.

“Yeah, it'll do.” Her eyes swept over the large room, not missing anything. She'd let Coulson talk her into consulting with them in-house, at least on a temporary basis, and it was starting to look better and better. “I'm used to having...” Darcy. “A research assistant.”

She looked over to see Mr. Bakshi gave her a warm smile. “I'm certain you'll be able to find someone on staff who will meet your needs. Is there anything else I may do for you, Dr. Foster?”

“No thanks, Mr. Bakshi. I'll probably be in and out for a little bit while I set everything up.” That was really the biggest pain about agreeing to this, getting all of her equipment from her truck out in the parking lot, all the way up here.

“Of course. Your badge will let you in and out.” He seemed to think for a moment, looking down at her. “I'll send someone to help you move your equipment.”

“Oh no.” Jane shook her head. “That's not necessary, I can manage. I don't want to be any trouble.” It was a combination of being protective of her gear- most people didn't understand how delicate it was- and the memories of what had happened the _last_ time SHIELD had put their hands on her stuff, but she was determined to get it herself.

“Nonsense, it's no trouble at all.” Another warm smile that seemed a little greasy, somehow. “If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call our central help desk. Good day, Dr. Foster.” He turned and left the lab, the glass door sliding shut behind him followed by the magnetic click of the latch falling into place.

Jane was alone in her lab. There was a moment of indecision about whether she should wait for whatever “help” Mr. Bakshi was sending her way. She didn't want to, certainly, but she was in borrowed labspace at the moment, it would probably be the better idea.

With a sigh, she stepped a little further into the room. This probably wasn't a bad idea anyway. SHIELD obviously had astrophysicists on staff, and taking a look at what the room already included might mean less transportation of her fragile gear in from the truck.

It was fairly well laid out. There was a small coffeepot, the whiteboard even had a good supply of the _good_ markers, vastly underrated if anyone was going to ask her.

There was something that didn't quite fit in, though. There was a canister of some sort on the counter, it looked a little bit like a container of shaving cream or something. Unlabeled. Jane frowned at it for a moment before taking her Official Pen of Scientific Poking out of the pocket of her flannel overshirt and poked at the thing. It didn't do anything. Jane sighed. Whoever had been using the lab before her must not have cleaned up. Who even knew what was in it?

There was a box of latex gloves over by the door, though. Her field wasn't usually the latex-glove-requiring one, but they way the dispenser was built into the wall seemed to indicate that this was standard practice.

She went and got on a glove, then picked up the canister and took it over to the empty garbage can. The bag inside was crisp white plastic, and the canister made a muffled clanking noise as it hit the bottom of the can.

Was that... Was that a hissing noise? Jane stared down into the garbage can, eyebrow raising. She couldn't _see_ anything. A cautious sniff didn't _smell_ anything. She was a little torn. On the one hand, who knew what the hissing was? Pressured gas of some sort, obviously. But what if it was carbon monoxide or something like that?

On the other hand, such a tiny container, it had felt empty. She didn't exactly want to be calling the help desk in a panic on her first day there, especially if it was completely harmless.

She pulled the glove off her hand and dropped it into the garbage can, on top of the canister. Nothing happened. Shrugging, Jane turned away. There were safety systems in place, she remembered Mr. Bakshi talking about that. That there were sensors, and they'd pick up any potentially harmful airborne contaminants and send out an alarm. She'd basically discarded the thought at the time, she didn't do a whole lot of toxic-fume-involving-science, but in hindsight it was nice that he'd mentioned it.

Still, in just a couple of minutes, she started to feel decidedly odd. Fever, this felt a little bit like fever. Hot and cold at the same time, her forehead breaking out in a sweat. She pulled her flannel shirt a little more tightly around herself. There was... There was a medical station at the end of the hall. Mr. Bakshi had assured her that he didn't think she'd need it, but it was there, just in case.

Her steps were a little unsteady as she lurched towards the door. It opened as she reached the sensor that activated it, and she moved out into the hall.

Almost as soon as she was out on the white laminate floor of the hall, a stabbing pain shooting along her thigh had her yelling, dropping to the floor as she clutched it with both hands. That gas had obviously been _something_. How had it not set off the sensors?

For that matter, why weren't there other people around? She was on an R&D floor in a massive SHIELD base, how was there no one moving around with tests, and data, and results? How was she the only one around? Was this... Was this some sort of government set up? Were they trying to kill her.

To her relief, a man wearing all black was walking along the hall in her direction. He saw her on the floor and concern washed over his face as he broke into a sprint, crouching down to kneel at her side. “Are you hurt?” he asked, voice raspy and concerned.

Jane nodded, her teeth gritting together against the stabbing pains that just weren't stopping. They'd moved beyond her thigh, seemed to be taking over every muscle group in her limbs. “There was a gas or something, I don't know what happened.”

“Do you think you can walk?”

She wanted to, she really wanted to. But with the way her calf was seizing up... She shook her head, squinting up at him against the florescent light that seemed to be directly overhead.

“Just hold on, okay?” He was wearing an earpiece, and he seemed to be talking into it now. He said something, words she couldn't concentrate on, then he was speaking to her again. “Where did the gas come from?”

“There was a can, like...” Jane shuddered, her whole body vibrating against the hard floor. “Like shaving cream.”

“You heard?” There was a long pause. “Got it.” His hand fell away from the side of his head and he looked down at her in some concern. “Good news, I know what it is. They told me how to fix it. I'm gonna pick you up now.” His arms slid under her shoulders, behind her knees, and he lifted her easily against him as he stood up.

It took a bit of shifting around, but he pulled the badge from where it was clipped to Jane's shirt and let it scan in. There was a beep and the latch clicked over before the door slid open. “It could still be-” her words cut off as pain stabbed through her shoulders.

“It's fine, they said it dissipates right away.” He paused for a moment. “Not right away, obviously.” He hefted her in his arms and entered the lab. There was nowhere soft for her to sit, though, to he carried her over to one of the long workbenches and laid her down on top of it.

She gasped as her muscles came in contact with the hard surface. It was no worse than the floor out in the hall, but being held in his arms had been a little bit of a respite. She was shivering violently as his arms slipped away from her and he walked over to the first-aid kit that was just above the latex gloves.

He didn't bother with the gloves, just rummaged in the kit until he pulled out something that looked suspiciously like a needle of some sort. As he came back over to the table, Jane could see that it was definitely a needle.

He gave her a slightly apologetic look before taking the cap off of the metal and jabbing it suddenly into her thigh, making her yell. It was agony, but only for the briefest of moments. And then the pain was gone, replaced by a lassitude that had her relaxing back against the table.

The lassitude soon vanished, though, a desperate sort of desire taking its place. The man who'd helped her out, she hadn't really been able to focus on him before, but now he was all she could look at. He was lean, the muscles in his upper arms playing against the sleeve of his SHIELD-emblazoned t-shirt as he folded his arms across his chest.

She sat up, reaching for him before realizing what she was doing. A smirk curled his mouth up on one side, but he didn't move. This hazy, desperate feeling was troubling, but her worries about it seemed to fade away in the back of her mind, overwhelmed by what was quickly becoming an all-encompassing need.

“I need,” she whispered, her tongue coming out to wet her lips as she reached for him again. “I need...” Words wouldn't form beyond that, her mind unable to focus on what was becoming an ache between her legs.

He stepped towards her, arms unfolding so that his hands fell down to his sides. Jane was sitting at the edge of the table, and she opened her legs so that he could move between her legs until his thighs were flush against the table. “What do you need?” There was a knowing look in his eyes as he loomed over her, hands coming up to rest on the workbench on either side of her hips until he was leaning into her, forcing her to shift back until she was half-reclining on her elbows.

She reached for him, her fingers feeling thick and clumsy as they closed in the front of his shirt. It didn't matter that she didn't know him, she _needed_ him more than she'd ever needed anything in her life. She tried to pull him down against her, but his elbows locked to keep himself upright, away from her.

“What do you need?” he repeated.

“You,” was a whispered moan as she feebly pulled at the front of his shirt.

That seemed to have been what he was waiting for, though, because suddenly he was undoing the button to her jeans, the zipper grating as he slid it down. One hand slipped under her to lift her hips off the table as the other pulled her pants and panties off. He stooped down to undress her, pulling her sneakers off so that he could let her clothes drop to the floor.

His hands splayed across the front of her legs, skimming up along them as he stood back up. His thumbs brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and she squirmed, trying to get closer. He traced the creases where her thighs met her pelvis, completely skipping where she _needed_ him to touch her, and she let out a frustrated cry that made the smirk on his face grow.

“I need you,” Jane whispered, and he nodded, his hands sliding up over her sides, under her t-shirt.

“I know. But we should get the rest of these clothes off so you don't hurt yourself.” He pulled her upright, letting her loll against his shoulder his he pulled off the open flannel shirt, and then the t-shirt she had on underneath.

He eased her back down to the table, flicking open the front clasp of her bra. It fell open. The air was slightly chilly, at least compared to the fevered heat of her skin, making her nipples pucker.

He wasn't giving her what she needed. Her hand slid up over her hip, heading for the desperate heat between her legs. He caught her hand easily, though, pulling it up and out of the way, and she whimpered. “That's not going to do you any good,” he told her, shifting her until he was holding both wrists easily in one hand up above her head.

She pulled against his grip, but it did absolutely no good. “Please,” she whispered again, eyes locked on his. “Please, I need you!” Her hips were moving, trying to get closer to anything that would give her the friction she wanted.

His free hand settled low on her abdomen, the temperature of his skin slightly cool against her. His eyes were locked on hers, widened a little as the side of his thumb brushed over her clit. Everything clenched as what felt like a jolt of pure sensation moved through her. She bucked up against him, it wasn't enough. His hand stayed against her, but his thumb moved away. “Is that what you need?” he asked, and she nodded frantically, pulling futilely against his grip.

He brushed over her clit again and Jane moved against him, chasing the promise of friction. His touch was too light, she needed more, she needed-

That. Two fingers were rubbing a firm circle over the needy bead of flesh, pushing her higher and higher until it felt like the world dropped out from around him. She tried to grab him as her release rolled through her, her legs coming out to wrap around his lean hips and hook together behind him to pull him in against her.

Her head felt a little more clear as she came down, lying on the table and trying to catch her breath. “What... What happened?” She squinted up at the man leaning over her, taking in the dark eyes, pupils blown wide. “Who are you?”

“It's not over,” he warned, ignoring her questions. He was right, too, she could feel his erection pressed directly against her center and she was rolling her hips a little against him, her body still flushed with need.

“Who are you?” She couldn't look away from those dark eyes.

His mouth twisted up into a smirk even as he rocked back against her, the front of his black pants rough against her delicate flesh. “Brock.”

She let her head fall back against the hard surface of the workbench, eyes closing. His hand was on her again, taking the place of his clothed erection and she let out a disappointed moan. Two blunt-tipped fingers slipped inside her slick passage, though, and the moan turned into one of pleasure. Finding out what was going on was suddenly much less important than the slow glide of his digits in and out of her pussy.

Every nerve ending felt like they were on fire, and all he was doing was fanning the flames. Her hips pushed up off the table trying to get him to move faster, but he just kept up the infuriatingly slow tempo. She twisted and arched, but every time she tried to fuck herself on his fingers, he slowed down even more. Eventually Jane let herself lay back on the table, fingers digging into her palms as she fought to keep still.

“That's a good girl,” he murmured to her, the rasp of his voice pulling at her in a very visceral way. She felt the prickle of his stubble against her labia, but the first touch of his tongue had her yelping, moving up against him again. “Jane, you gotta be still, or you're gonna hurt yourself.” She couldn't help herself, though, and she head him chuckle as he started fucking her in earnest, his fingertips gliding back and forth over her G-spot.

She was yelling again as her orgasm rolled over her, and her mouth felt distinctly dry as she struggled once again to catch her breath.

She opened her eyes to see Brock was still looking down at her. “Is there anything to drink in here?” Maybe he would know.

He looked around the room, pausing as he seemed to see something. “I'll put on a pot of coffee if you want.” When she nodded, he let go of her wrists and gently untwined her legs from around his hips. “You stay right there. This isn't over.”

Jane nodded, lifting her head to watch him make his way across the room to where the small drip coffee maker was sitting on a counter against the wall. She'd seen it on her first walk through, if only she'd had the foresight to put it on then. “What's happening to me?”

“Alien pheromone, so they tell me. We call it sex pollen.” He glanced over his shoulder at her as he washed his hands before filling up the coffee pot with water from the tap.

Sex pollen? She was going to have to ask Thor if they had anything like that on Asgard the next time she saw him. “It didn't start out like... this.” The urge to reach down and rub over her swollen clit was still there, but easy enough to resist. For now. “How does it work? Not that I prefer the muscle seizing, but...” Being compelled to have sex with a strange man wasn't exactly something that she liked the idea of, either.

He shrugged. “I'm not a scientist. I do know that if you don't get the shot I gave you, eventually your heart will do what your legs were doing. It's fucking nasty, doc.”

Well, that didn't sound good. She lay back against the table again, giving into the urge to touch herself. Her fingertips skimmed over one pebbled nipple before sliding down over her ribs and onto the slight curve of her stomach. She let out a sigh as her fingers skittered over her clit, closing her eyes.

“Oh no.” Brock pushed her hand out of the way again. She hadn't even heard him move across the room, and yet there he was. “I don't think so, doc.”

It was hard to argue with him when he replaced her questing fingers with his own. “Why not?” It came out more a pleading whine than she wanted it to, but the question was heartfelt.

“Couple reasons. This'll stay with you for a bit, and you'll wear yourself out before you get it all out. You'll just get yourself off as soon as possible, the more I build you up, the faster this gets out of your system.” The direction his voice was coming from was changing, getting closer to her body. She let out a desperate whine at the thought of his tongue moving against her sensitive nerves again. “Think you can hold still?”

Anything, she'd do anything. Jane nodded, and she heard his huff of amusement as a puff of air moved across her heated skin. The sharp prickle against her flesh, and then the sinuous flick of his tongue. Her wrists were free, and she reached down to bury her fingers in his thick, black hair, the tips of her fingers skating across his scalp.

His tongue flicked back and forth, up and down, and she let out a long cry as his fingers slid deep inside her again. He brought her right to the edge until she was sure that the next sweep of his tongue would bring her over the edge, but it didn't. She tried to push his head down against her, and suddenly she found herself on her stomach with her wrists caught behind her back. He wasn't touching her anymore except for his grip on her wrists. Her body was screaming with need and she let out a frustrated shriek.

The edge of the table was a hard line against her hips, she could feel his hand smoothing up over her thigh. “Bad choice, doc.”

“No, please, I need...”

“Tough shit. Now you're gonna have to wait for me.” She could hear the zip of his fly, felt the head of his cock pushing easily into her slick, swollen pussy. He started fucking her right away, their skin slapping together every time his pelvis rammed against her backside.

Brock was pushing her impossible higher until she thought she'd implode from pure _need_ , she was starting to ache with it. Sound was pouring from her mouth, his name, pleading, wordless noises of need.

She was writhing, desperately pulling on her arms to try and free them, pushing back against him as much as she could, but his hand was heavy on her back, holding her in place.

He was getting close, she could tell. His movements stayed deeper, lost their rhythm a little bit. She felt the pulse of his release and she screamed out in frustration before she felt the flick of his fingers against her clit.

Jane was screaming again as she sagged to the table, boneless as she finally found her release. It rushed over her like a wave, leaving her gasping for breath and clawing at her hands. It took a while to come down, and when she did tears were stinging her eyes. She made no move to get up even as he eased away from her.

“Rumlow!” That was a new voice. Male. Distantly familiar, like someone she'd heard before but couldn't place. “What are you doing to Dr. Foster?”

“Sex pollen,” Brock drawled lazily, and she heard the slide of his pants moving up his legs before the rasp of his zipper being done back up. “I was told not to let her die.”

“Get out of here.” The voice was coming closer. In just a moment, Jane felt a blanket dropped down over her back and gentle hands tucking it around her neck. With shaking fingers she grasped at it, even as a hand on her elbow helped pull her upright.

She'd seen him in New Mexico, but she couldn't place the name. Bald, glasses... He'd worked with Coulson. “Who are you?” She was hoarse from screaming, her throat felt raw. And Brock was leaving through the sliding glass door.

“Jasper Sitwell. We met, although I don't know if you remember.” He gave her a reassuring smile, his hand hovering by her elbow until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Let's get you up to Medical, get you checked out. Is that alright?”

It touched her more than it probably should have that he was asking, and fresh tears sprang into her eyes. She felt raw, she felt... Horrible. Just horrible. She nodded, and with his hand under her arm to steady her, they made their slow way across the lab to the door.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A few people have asked if I would write Jane/Rumlow, apparently the answer is yes!


End file.
